


it all starts here

by keishn



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crushes, Diet Angst, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Pining Gladio, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keishn/pseuds/keishn
Summary: "When you first joined up with us, I didn't think you were remarkable.""Gee," Prompto says, sarcastically. "Thanks, Big Guy."





	it all starts here

Gladio has a problem. Has had a problem for a while now, for longer than he realizes, probably. But since the night he noticed there's been no unseeing it.

Ever since a night in Duscae, when he and Prompto sat together outside the tent and told terrible jokes back and forth getting each other to laugh while making Noctis scowl and Ignis simply sigh. Something about that night— Gladio wants to blame the moon, or the position of the stars, or _something_ — changed the way he started looking at Prompto; changed the way he started _thinking about_ Prompto.

Gladio knows that Ignis knows because he's Ignis and of course he does. Gladio's pretty sure Noctis doesn't because he's Noctis, and frankly even if he were to notice he's got more important things on his mind.

Gladio isn't sure whether Prompto notices. He tries hard to act the same way he always has, but it's hard to remember how exactly to do that. How to pretend his heart's at resting rate when in actuality the smallest things cause a jolt of adrenaline like a daemon materializing in front of them. The feeling is more pleasant, of course, because it's Prompto. But it's also more horrifying because he doesn't know what to do with himself every time his heart races or his stomach twists. At least he's trained to handle daemons.

This? A crush? On _Blondie?_ He has no idea what to do with this. He can't swing a greatsword at his own goddamn feelings.

Still. Right now, Prompto's laying on his stomach, sprawled out on one of the beds at The Leville, humming some annoying (yet endearing) tune, and kicking his legs back and forth while scrolling through his camera. Before, this wouldn't have even been notable. Before, Gladio wouldn't have to pretend to be paying attention to the novel in his hands, because he'd actually would be paying attention to said novel because _before_ — before, Prompto was just Prompto. But now. Now, Prompto is _Prompto._ And there shouldn't be a difference. But there is.

Gladio tries his best to ignore it. To not let the wild beating of his heart get the best of him. But Gladio's a man of action, so it's difficult. It's difficult to keep doing _nothing_ when every one of his instincts is screaming at him to do _something,_ to do _anything._ Gladio isn't quite sure what that something or anything would be. He can't exactly make a move on Prompto. They're both in Noctis' Crownsguard. It would be politically indecent if nothing else.

Not to mention how awkward every single drive in the Regalia, or every time they have to share a bed in a caravan or at a hotel to save the extra gil, or every goddamn night they end up camping and crammed together in the tent would be if Gladio did act on his stupid feelings and got rejected and made Prompto uncomfortable.

Against his will, he glances at Blondie in his peripheral vision. Watches the way his eyelashes cast shadows on freckled cheeks, how he brushes his bangs out of his eyes, how he narrows his eyes and twists his lips when deciding whether to keep or delete a photo. Gladio feels a tug at his heart, and it's too much, so he forces himself to look away.

He catches Ignis giving him a knowing look. Gladio narrows his eyes in response before he turns his attention back to his book forcing himself to read each individual word on the page.

#

They're driving through Leide, the hot sun beating down on them from the bright blue sky and reflecting off the desert sand. Until now— at least since the last time they were here— Gladio has conveniently forgotten about the Cindy thing. Or, well, Prompto's Cindy thing. As in Prompto's thing _for_ Cindy.

Prompto turns around in the front passenger seat and says, "I can't wait to see Cindy. Do you think she misses us?" in that love-stricken voice he uses to talk about her.

Gladio takes the pang of jealousy, the drop of his heart to his stomach, as a good thing. A reminder. Prompto is not Gladio's. And that's good; that's the way it should be. If Prompto likes Cindy, so be it. That's not hurting anyone. Cindy isn't involved in the messy politics that come with allegiance to royalty (even if she would love to be the official royal mechanic for the Regalia in and of itself.) It shouldn't make a difference, really, who Prompto's interested in. But it does.

"I think she misses the Regalia," Noctis says from beside Gladio. They all know he's only half-joking.

"Man, I wonder what kind of guy Cindy likes." He pauses, glances over to Noct. "Think I make the cut?"

Something utterly stupid is on the tip of Gladio's tongue, but Ignis saves him from himself, saying from the driver's seat, "It _is_ possible that Cindy prefers women."

Prompto turns back to face the windshield, settling into his seat. "Huh," he says, in a tone Gladio finds all too calm for the suggestion that Prompto has no chance with the— in his own words— woman of his dreams. "Good point, Iggy. I didn't even think of that."

"I don't know," Noctis says, "I could have sworn I heard her flirting with Gladio last time we were out here."

Gladio rolls his eyes. "She could be into men _and_ women."

"What?" Prompto says, indignant. He twists his shoulders to look behind him at Gladio. "Put a shirt on before we get to Hammerhead." He pauses, then adds, "A baggy shirt. With long sleeves! And not black either, do you have like yellow or something to wash out your complexion?"

"What?" Gladio says.

"Cindy may have fallen for your muscled rugged biker look routine last time, but—"

"My _what_ routine?" Gladio asks, amused.

Prompto groans and turns back around, leaning back into his seat and putting his feet up on the dashboard. "You guys are the worst," he says, pouting. Gladio can see his expression in the side view mirror. "Especially Gladio."

Gladio laughs despite himself.

#

The car talk doesn't stop Prompto from spending every second with Cindy that she'll willingly spare him. At the slightest clue that she's annoyed, though, he finds one of the three of them to hang out with. That happens to be Gladio when he's browsing the convenience store beside the garage, mostly to escape from the sun overhead but partially because he's a creep and a masochist and could _see_ Prompto's every move with Cindy through the window. He needs to figure out a way to handle these pointless feelings.

"Hey, Big Guy," Prompto says, "What's up?"

And Prompto has always used that nickname, or at least it's been around longer than the feelings Gladio now harbors. The words shouldn't make his heart race now, just because he knows what his feelings for Prompto are. But his heart races anyway, betraying him. He tries not to let it show in his face or his voice.

He holds up the produce. "Think Iggy will put these in cup noodles?"

Prompto grins, blinding, freckles dancing over his cheekbones, blue-lavender eyes shining. "Ooh! Good idea," he says, "Just don't let Noctis find out, you know how he feels about vegetables."

Gladio chuckles and brings the produce to the counter.

#

The sun's setting over the Vesper Pool, tinting the sky orange and pink, the colors reflecting off the large popcorn-shaped cumulus clouds.  Gladio wipes his hands on his dark jeans once he finishes pitching the tent, and he goes to take a seat near the other three. Ignis sits in one of the green mesh chairs that folds up and fits in the trunk of the Regalia. Noctis sits on the ground, legs crossed, hands on his phone in his lap. Prompto sits on the ground as well, legs outstretched, leaning back against his palms. His camera's hung by its strap around his neck.

"I'm starting to think no one will ever like me," Prompto says, very woe-is-me style.

Gladio can feel Ignis' laser beam eyes on him as Noctis says, "Oh come on, Prom, that's not true."

Gladio sets up another of the mesh chairs as Prompto lets out a dramatic sigh and flops so he's laying on the ground. "I know we got bigger things to worry about, but seriously. I mean compared to all of you I'm kind of pathetic. And on top of that, I'm _annoying_. I have no chance with Cindy... she just tolerates me when we're in Hammerhead. And—"  He stops short, shakes his head. "Sorry," he says, "That all doesn't matter right now anyway."  

"I assure you, Prompto, " Ignis says, "There are plenty of qualities that you possess that one—" he pauses, and Gladio is all too aware of Ignis' glance in his direction, "— might hold affection for."

"Uh," Prompto says, sitting up on his elbows, furrowing his brow in confusion. He studies Ignis for a moment before saying, "Thanks?"

Gladio thinks that this conversation shouldn't change anything. That's Prompto's admission shouldn't have him considering admitting his feelings to Blondie, no matter the fact that there's no scenario in which they could be together even if Prompto _did_ feel the same way— which he so very clearly doesn't.

It shouldn't make a difference that Prompto, just moments ago sounded dejected. But it does. And Gladio thinks that's a good enough reason to change his mind about taking these feelings to his grave.

He's not quite sure when or how he'll say it. He doesn't want Prompto to think Gladio's pitying him. So he waits.

#

They're standing together, both leaning slightly against a stone half-wall, overlooking the vast expanse of the waters that run underneath Altissia. It's breathtaking, Gladio will admit, so it makes sense that Prompto has been taking pictures all afternoon while Noctis has been fishing. It makes sense that Ignis doesn't mind waiting by the Prince at the docks where the gondolas pass by while Gladio's been following Prompto around.

Not that they need to worry about Prompto, but it's best if they don't leave each other alone too much in a strange place with a confusing layout and even more confusing transportation system and Astrals only know what sort of enemies of Lucis surrounding them. Still, Ignis volunteered to stay with Noct while Prompto and Gladio wander around.

They had been walking for a couple of hours when Prompto decided to stop here, while the sun started its late afternoon descent toward the horizon, painting everything gold, light rays bouncing off the surface of the water.

"We don't get much time to linger anywhere these days," Prompto says, by way of explanation.

He doesn't sound too miffed about it; that's just how it is. Gladio understands. They've been on the move for weeks and weeks. Almost endlessly since leaving Insomnia for Noct's now-defunct wedding to Lunafreya.

Prompto pulls out his camera, snapping a picture before Gladio has time to react. Gladio blinks, surprised. "Not gonna capture the sunset?"

"No picture can live up to watching the real thing," Prompto says. "I hope you don't mind, the light was just hitting you perfectly." 

The words don't mean anything beyond their face value. Gladio's sure of this. After all, Prompto is a photographer. He's constantly looking at his surroundings in terms of lighting and composition, a way that Gladio can't even fathom. Still, the words make his heart race, a feeling he's far too familiar with and that he's beginning to realize isn't going away anytime soon. Looking back out at the water in front of them, he says evenly, "I'm gonna tell you something."

Prompto's eyebrows draw together, and his blue-lavender eyes narrow. And the sunlight hits his cheekbones, turning his skin a golden color that Gladio's sure he's never seen before. It's breathtaking, Gladio will admit. He wishes he had Prompto's skill so he could capture the sight forever. It makes this whole thing far more nerve-wracking than he needs it to be, but it's now or never. He's rehearsed this in his head about a million times even when he was sure he'd never go through with it, but no imagined scenario can live up to this. He forgets everything he wants to say.

All he comes up with is, "When you first joined up with us, I didn't think you were remarkable."

"Gee," Prompto says, sarcastically. "Thanks, Big Guy."

Gladio ignores him and keeps going, hoping the right words will come to him if he talks more. "In fact, I wasn't entirely convinced you could hold your own until we got stuck out in Leide with not enough gil to fix the Regalia and had to earn it fighting those first monsters. That's when I realized you were good at what you do. You can do much more than hold your own." He pauses, rubs at the back of his neck. "Don't get me wrong, I respected you before that, but... well. You're not pathetic."

Prompto blinks, twice. His eyebrows pull together, and he looks away from Gladio, back out towards the waterfalls.  He doesn't look quite convinced.

"And you're not annoying, either," Gladio says, "if you were I don't think I'd have managed to survive those long trips in the Regalia the last few weeks. And Cindy likes you, maybe... maybe not the way you like her... or maybe she does, I don't know her feelings but—" He needs to wrap it up. "— but I know mine. And I like you. More than that, really. I'm— well. Sometimes, like right now, with the sun in your eyes and your hair getting pushed into your eyes from the breeze, I think I could be falling in love with you. Or maybe I already have, but—" he stops.

Prompto stares, open-mouthed, in confusion or shock or disbelief or maybe even in horror.

"So," Gladio says, "So I thought maybe you should hear that."  After a moment he looks away from Prompto, "You don't have to say anything. I think it's best you don't."

After a long silence— one that Gladio is perfectly happy not breaking— Prompto says, "Gladio, I—"

Gladio's not quite ready to hear it, to hear the rejection he's sure is coming; that he's even more sure of now that he's heard the tone of voice Prompto used to say his name.

Rather than wait for the inevitable, he says, "Come on," Stepping away from the half-wall and starting to walk past Prompto, "the princess must be done fishing by now."

**Author's Note:**

> [it all starts here - magic man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGnZocmwdQU)
> 
> * * *
> 
> i stayed up until three o'clock in the morning writing this in my cell phone notes on a self-indulgent impulse and just cleaned it up a bit before posting it here lol. i hoped you all liked it anyway. thanks for reading!
> 
> im @keishn_ on twitter :)


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